Itsy Bitsy Spider (Emma Frost #1) (14 page)

Saturday
morning the story
of the pastor was all over the
papers and Internet. The media had been present for The Queen of Fitness'
funeral. The journalists had been in the church waiting for the funeral to begin,
wondering why nothing happened, when suddenly the island's police car drove up
and parked in front of the rectory.

Immediately they all ran outside and all of them
had the same interview with the clerk telling them that the pastor had been
killed, that he had just found him inside and that it
wasn't a pretty sight
.

An ambulance later on arrived along with the
island's doctor, Dr. Williamsen who declared the man dead before he was taken
away in a body bag. The papers all had pictures of him being carried out to the
ambulance on a stretcher and then statements from the police on scene followed.
It wasn't Officer Dan this time, probably off duty; I thought and read the
statements from Officer Clausen, another officer working down at the station.

"We do not believe this is related to the
death of Irene Justesen, the Queen of Fitness," he said. "Nothing so
far indicates that it is."

After that the journalist mostly focused on the
many illegal immigrants who were found at the pastor's property and many of the
other stories in the paper were about how poorly they had been treated and how
the system was inhumane to immigrants. Not one of them speculated about the
many killings on one small island.

I exhaled and leaned back in my chair in the
kitchen where I was reading the articles on my laptop. I was in a state of
shock. I had spoken to the man just recently, when he told me to stop asking
questions. It felt creepy. This was actually a man I had known, that I had
spoken to. It was suddenly really close. The killer was right out there, on the
same island as I, killing people in cold blood. I might even have seen him or
bumped into him somewhere. Maybe at the store? Maybe in my street?

Victor finished his breakfast and was playing in
the living room. I told him to stay out of the yard a little longer, until his
blisters were completely gone. It had gotten too cold outside. Hopefully the
cold would kill off those bugs that had bitten him. I wanted him to be able to
go out there and play during the winter, dressed in his winter suit. It seemed
to be so good for him. The fresh air, the nature, the exercise. It was all
good. And he needed it. He always got so cranky when he had to play inside for
too long.

I grabbed my coffee cup and walked into the
living room. I found him standing by the window with his nose pressed flat
towards the glass, looking outside at his favorite spot in the entire world.

I walked up to him and looked out as well while
sipping my coffee.

"I know you miss it, buddy. But the trees
and the yard will be there next week too. Then you can go out and play as long
as you're careful not to trip again."

Victor didn't react. He stared outside at his
beloved yard. I felt bad for him having to be stuck inside for the entire
weekend. But it felt like the best thing to do even if it meant having a cranky
son inside the house.

"You think we're getting snow soon?" I
asked knowing how much my son loved the snow.

Victor didn't look at me. He kept staring at the
trees outside. "A storm is coming," he suddenly said.

"A storm?"

"A blizzard."

"A blizzard in October? Where did you hear
that?"

"The trees told me."

"Ah the trees, huh? Well I bet they know
before the weatherman on TV, right?" I said with a smile." I didn't
want to tell him that they had said on TV this morning that the next few days
were going to be calm and beautiful. Cold as hell, but calm. No winds at all.
It didn't matter. In Victor's imaginary world there could be a storm, there
could be many storms that I never knew about.

"Well we better stay inside, don't
we?" I said and walked back into the kitchen. Maya was still sleeping
upstairs and I didn't expect to see her at this side of lunch, so I put the
rest of the breakfast away and the scrambled eggs in the refrigerator for her
to take out later, if she wanted. Then I sat by my computer again. I gained
access to the police file of the pastor. It was what the clerk had told the
press about it not being a pretty sight, that lingered in my mind.

A second later my suspicion was confirmed. The
pastor had been killed the exact same way as Mrs. Heinrichsen and Irene
Justesen. Cut open while still alive and then the killer had removed his
organs, the heart, the lungs and the liver. But why? I simply didn't
understand. I could understand why anyone would hold a grudge against some of
the church people, especially after the story Jack had told me ... I froze with
the cup in my hand. Jack! What if it was him? My heart started beating faster.
I stared at the computer screen with all those pictures, then out the window,
across the street where Jack's house was. He had a motive. A reason to want
those church people gone. And a good one indeed. Could he have done this? Was
he capable of something that cruel? I lifted my cup and drank some more coffee.
He had reacted quite aggressively when I asked about the church and his story.
He seemed like the type with a dark side to him. You never knew with people,
did you? But still... I could hardly imagine him cutting anyone open and
removing their organs while they were still alive. It was so cruel, so
barbaric. Could he do such a thing? I shrugged and put the cup down. Maybe. But
why would he want to kill Irene Justesen? She had left the church just like he
did. But maybe ... maybe she was in on hitting Jack's sister before she left
the church? Maybe she was one of them, maybe she had been doing horrible things
and then she left the church because it was too much?

It irritated me that there was so much I didn't
know, like when did Irene Justesen leave the church? What year? When did her
daughter disappear? I didn't even know how old Jack was. I would guess he was
in his late forties, but could he be older? Could he be in his fifties? Could
he even be the one who made Irene's daughter pregnant?

I shook my head and sighed. Too much guessing,
too few facts. I was making up stories now. I scrolled through the police file
and the pictures thinking they looked very much like the previous ones. I
wondered how long the police were going to stick with their story that it
wasn't a serial killer, that the deaths weren't related. It wouldn't be long
before the press started wondering as well. I stopped at the last photo. The
mandatory number the killer had left written in his victim's blood on the wall.
This time it was the number two. I found my notes and looked at the numbers.
Why was he doing this? Was he telling us something with these numbers? I looked
at them again. Four, Three, Two ... was he counting down? Like a countdown
before a rocket launch? Four, three, two, one ... blast off. But why start at
four? Didn't those things usually start at five? I drank the last of my cup and
almost choked when it suddenly hit me. I had seen something similar. On the
wall in Victor's room.

I stormed up the stairs and ran into his room. I
remembered when we moved in there had been something on the wall. It was like
it had been washed off, but some had remained. Like a print, not very visible,
but when you walked close to it, you could see. I had thought it was paint.
That someone had painted it for fun, like graffiti or something and had placed
my son's poster over it just until I found the time and energy to paint the
entire room. I hadn't given it any thought since.

Now I walked close to the wall and carefully
pulled the poster down. I held my breath as I watched the wall in front of me.
Right there, on the light brown color, someone had once painted the number
five.

She was losing
weight
and could hardly fit any of the clothes
anymore. Astrid had been saving on the food for the last month since they were
almost out and it was almost time for the woman to bring them new supplies. But
Sebastian was seven now and growing faster than expected. He had been eating a
lot of food lately and in order to not run out too soon, Astrid decided she could
cut back and let him have what he needed. But after weeks of hardly eating she
had grown weaker and was tired all the time. She didn't have the energy to play
cards with Sebastian or read all the books they used to. She slept most of the
day now and tried to explain to Sebastian that this was just a phase. As soon
as the new supplies arrived she would be energized again and able to do the
things they used to.

"But Mom. I want to play with you."

"Just play with your toys for a little
while. Mommy just needs a little nap."

Then Sebastian would go in the corner of the
room and play with his spiders who had become his best friends and only
companion ever since his mommy grew weaker.

"The lady will be here soon," Astrid
said every morning when she served him his breakfast.

She would repeat it again right before they went
to sleep. "Tomorrow Sebastian. Tomorrow she will come and we'll have a big
dinner with all the food we can eat."

"Can't wait Mommy."

But the next morning she would stare at the iron
door, expecting, hoping that this would be the day when the woman arrived. Over
the years she had stopped looking at the woman as her warden and more as their
savior bringing them food at the right time, the person on whom their lives
depended.

Right now she couldn't bear to think about the
world outside or all the years she had lost or even how badly she wanted her
son to know all that she had known, the ocean, the blue sky and the fields of
corn. She simply didn't have the energy for it anymore. All she could think
about was hearing that sound again, that wondrous sound of steps, of life on
the other side of the iron door. The sound of the outer door slamming and then
the creaking sound of the iron door opening. Oh how she missed it, longed to
hear it again. It was her worst nightmare to be forgotten down here in that
hole, that the woman should lose her mind or even simply forget to bring them
food in time. The woman had never let them down before. She had always come,
they never knew precisely when, but she always came. Astrid began to think that
she might have lost track of the days and maybe miscalculated when she was
supposed to arrive. She counted the cans and realized they only had a few days
of supplies left for Sebastian to eat. Then there would be no more left. They
would have to starve until the woman came.

Astrid looked at her son and stroked his hair
while he was playing. He lifted up his hand to show her the spider he had been
keeping as a pet. Valdemar, he called it. Astrid let him have his fun even if
she couldn't stand having them this close to her all the time. She never knew
where they were and would find them in her bed sometimes, then scream and watch
how Sebastian laughed. It was the only fun he got to have, so she let him.

Astrid looked at the calendar she had made and
put up on the wall with all Sebastian's drawings. According to the dates it was
six months and three days ago since the lady was last there. She had to be on
her way soon, didn't she? Astrid nodded heavily to herself. She had to. Usually
she always came a few days or maybe a week before the six months had passed. It
was the first time she had gone past the date. Or maybe Astrid had
miscalculated? It could be. Maybe she had remembered the months all wrong,
which ones had thirty one days and which hadn't. It was getting harder and
harder to keep track of months and years, but she tried as hard as she could.
Listening to the radio helped her a lot, since they often said the date and
told her if it was summertime or wintertime or if it was leap year. So she
thought she had it figured out all right, but now she was doubting herself. She
stared at the door feeling the hunger, the famish in every cell of her body. As
long as Sebastian had food to eat, they were good. But what if the woman didn't
arrive in time? Would he have to starve as well?

Astrid couldn't bear the thought. She walked up
the stairs to the iron door, thinking she heard something, hoping it was
finally her arriving, but something inside of her knew that wasn't it. The
sound came from further away, from the world outside. The faint world that had
come to mean less and less for Astrid. But she knew that sound from back when
she was still part of the world, part of the living on the outside.

It was the sound of an ambulance.